Not Visions, But Realities
by xxLittle Black Dressxx
Summary: Shortly after her move to LA, Addison returns to Seattle for a high-profile case. She hugs, she walks on the beach ... she's very Zen. And everyone is buying it. Everyone except Derek.


A/N: This story is based off winter machine's prompt—the crossover episode where Addison returns to Seattle for the first time, reimagined with an Addek bend. This turned out a lot differently than what I'd initially envisioned when I first sat down to write this story; but hopefully that's not a bad thing.

I hope you like this story, and thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it!

* * *

 **Not Visions, But Realities**

 _And you'll sit beside me, and we'll look, not at visions, but at realities._

— _Edith Wharton,_ _The Age of Innocence_

Her mother's maiden name … Forbes. She has one brother … one pain in the ass brother, Archer. No nieces or nephews (not anymore, at least). She likes cookie dough ice cream, hot buttered rum, and (more than) the occasional glass of good wine. She likes to shop, and she does the Sunday crossword in pen. She dances in public … demurely. She dances in private … hilariously. Favorite novel, _The Age of Innocence_. Favorite band, AC/DC. Her favorite color is red … all shades of red.

And she lives in California.

Despite everything that's happened between them, he can still rattle off these facts about her … almost as easily as he can rattle off facts about himself.

That's what happens when you know someone … spend eleven-plus years with someone.

He supposes she can rattle off facts about him too. In fact, he's certain she can. That's what happens when you know someone.

Whether or not they want to admit it, they know each other. He knows her. And she knows him.

And he can't help thinking about one of the very first nights she spent with him in his trailer, shortly after she'd moved to Seattle. He was busy pretending she didn't exist, but that didn't stop her from throwing some cold, hard honesty in his direction. She looked at him— _really looked at him_ —and said, "You can't get away from yourself by moving from place to place."

He could see what she was doing. She was quoting from his favorite book, _The Sun Also Rises_ , and showing him that despite what he wanted believe, she still knew him better than anyone. She knew his likes, his dislikes, his favorite book … even the way his mind works.

He, of course, didn't miss the opportunity to meet her statement with hostility. "I'm not trying to get away from myself," he retorted without missing a beat. "I'm trying to get away from you."

In hindsight, maybe she had a point. Maybe she didn't. But all he wants to do right now is throw that line back in her face.

Addison's back.

 _Not back, back_ , as she's emphatically clarified. But back for the day.

There's a baby whose heart is growing outside of his chest; Addison is leading the team that'll be operating on him.

And she's everywhere.

She's never been the type to make a quiet entrance. And this time is no different.

She keeps commenting on how nothing at Seattle Grace ever changes and how everything's exactly the same.

She's wrong.

She also thinks she's changed. She thinks her move to LA has changed her.

She's wrong about that too.

He has to hand it to her; she's putting on a good show. She has a lot of people fooled.

" _She hugs now,"_ he's overheard Karev comment. _"That's new."_

" _She's changed,"_ he's heard Mark grumble. _"All business and no pleasure."_

And there are various residents and nurses who have gone for the low-hanging fruit—" _her hair; it's different. Darker."_

He likes it better red.

Yes, she's putting on a good show. And maybe if he wasn't looking— _really looking_ —he'd believe that she's changed. But he knows better.

And for the first time in a long time, he's looking.

"Shepherd, didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to stare?"

He quickly turns his attention away from Addison and sees Bailey standing in front of him, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I wasn't staring," he defends. "I was … looking."

"Call it whatever you want. Just remember," she warns, cocking her head in Addison's direction, "she leaves in less than twelve hours. Don't do anything stupid."

"What makes you think I'm going to—"

"Just don't do anything stupid," Bailey repeats, walking away before Derek has time to respond.

He watches Bailey's retreating form for a moment before turning his attention back to Addison. She's walking over to a nearby desk to grab a file; and Izzie Stevens is sitting there, eating her feelings.

"Dr. Montgomery, can you do me a favor?" he hears Izzie ask through a mouthful of potato chips. "Can you talk to my patient?"

"I don't work here anymore, Stevens," Addison responds.

"She's pregnant," Izzie persists. "And H.I.V. positive. And she thinks she has to terminate the pregnancy."

"She doesn't," Addison answers matter-of-factly.

"I know. But she doesn't. And this isn't my area of expertise."

"I don't work here anymore, Stevens," Addison repeats; a little more forcefully this time. "If I worked here, I would be performing surgery after surgery. I might even be back with, uh, my husband, who is apparently on the market."

Her _husband_.

Derek does a double take at that.

Her _husband_. Not her ex-husband. Her _husband_.

"And I'm not saying I want to get back with my husband," Addison continues.

There it is again. Her _husband._

"It's just that things were simpler with him than the messy, messy single life I am currently living. Which was not my point, by the way. My point was …"

But Derek leaves before she can make whatever point she's going to make—the words, _my husband_ , echoing in his head.

The rest of the day comes and goes. He loses a patient. The surgery isn't particularly inspiring, but it reaffirms what he already knows—the clinical trial is going nowhere fast.

The day is over and he knows he should go home. But he doesn't.

He lingers while Richard talks to Addison outside the scrub room.

"I do miss some of this," he hears Addison admit.

And Derek reflects that this may be the first truthful thing she's said all day.

"I could put the paperwork through tonight," Richard offers, practically salivating at Addison's confession. "You could start tomorrow."

Addison shakes her head. "I … needed to come back … to see that it was right to leave." She meets Richard's eyes. "You need to fill my position."

No part of the conversation surprises Derek.

Addison, however, is surprised when she literally bumps into Derek right outside the scrub room.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't realize you were still here."

He shrugs. "I heard about your surgery. Congratulations."

"Thanks." She offers him a sad smile. "I … I heard about yours too."

"Really?" he asks in surprise. From what he could tell, it seemed like everyone and their mother were buzzing over Addison's surgery. He was under the impression that his clinical trial had gone relatively unnoticed. "You heard about my surgery?"

"I, uh, I asked a nurse about it," Addison admits. "I'm sorry it didn't go well."

"Thanks," Derek says quietly. He's about to say more when Izzie Stevens interrupts.

"I was Gandhi, Dr. Montgomery," she beams as she breezes past Addison and Derek, the spring in her step impossible to miss. "I was so freakin' Gandhi, I kicked Gandhi's ass."

"It's an LA thing," Addison explains to Derek quickly.

"Really?" He looks at her, unimpressed. "Did you tell her to be the change she wants to see in the world?"

"I … yeah."

"It's not and LA thing." Derek says quietly.

"What?"

"I said it's _not_ an LA thing, Addison. And you know it." He looks at her pointedly. "It was your mentor, Vivian's, favorite saying."

Addison swallows thickly. Derek is right.

Over the years, Addison had heard countless stories about her tough-as-nails mentor's experiences in the medical field: first, as the only women in her med. school class …. next, as the only women in her internship program … then, as the only female resident in her year … and, finally, as a highly sought after doctor making her mark in a predominantly male profession.

Vivian was met with skepticism and pushback at every turn.

 _How did you do it?_ Addison had repeatedly asked her mentor.

Vivian's answer was always the same. _It wasn't easy. Everything was stacked against me. And at that point in time, it wasn't fashionable for women to have careers … especially not such demanding, high-powered ones_. _But sometimes you need to be the change you want to see in the world._

"I wonder how Vivian would feel if she knew you were passing off her hard-earned wisdom as _an LA thing_ ," Derek says, interrupting Addison's thoughts, a smug, self-righteous look on his face.

"You can drop the martyr act, Derek."

"Hey, I'm not the only one who's acting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Addison asks, growing defensive.

"Nothing. Just … never mind."

Addison rolls her eyes. "It's nice to see some things never change."

"Oh, will you drop that already?" Derek demands. "It's getting old."

"What?"

"You … acting like everything here is exactly the same. And pretending you're LA personified … with the surfing that you _don't_ do … and pretending you're quoting Gandhi … and—"

"I've changed, Derek."

"Cut the crap, Addison."

"I've changed."

"How?" Derek asks, his eyes flashing. "Because you dyed your hair darker?" He looks at her pointedly. "The last time you did something drastic to your hair was when Richard made you believe you killed the baby … and you were having an existential crisis over whether you made the wrong decision specializing in neonatal. You got highlights."

"Well, I, uh—"

"This is nothing new, Addison," he says gesturing to her hair. "I guess it looks a little better than the highlights did … but it's nothing new. It's what you do when you're upset … really upset."

She swallows thickly. He's right. And also very wrong. Right because this is exactly what she does when she's upset and feels like she's losing control. Wrong because the time with the highlights that he's talking about wasn't the last time she did this. She dyed her hair blonde after she slept with Mark … after Derek left.

"I have to meet Callie and Erica for drinks," she says, purposely not responding to his accusation.

He steps in front of her, blocking her path. "You're not going to give me a hug?" he asks, his tone mocking.

"What?"

"I was under the impression that you hugged now," Derek says with feigned innocence. "I mean, you hugged Karev. And you hugged Meredith." He gives her a small smirk. "I can't speak for your hug with Karev because I didn't see it. But I did see the hug you gave Meredith … and I've seen your mother give less awkward hugs."

"Derek, stop."

"What?"

"We're not married anymore. I don't have to put up with this. You can't just use me as target practice because your clinical trial isn't going well."

"You called me your husband earlier today," Derek says quietly, his eyes cast down at the floor.

"What? When?"

"With Meredith, once. And then with Stevens … a lot."

"I … I'm sure it was an accident," Addison stammers.

Except it wasn't. The first time, sure. But it felt so good to say those words— _my husband_. And no one was correcting her. So, she kept saying them.

"What's your point, Derek?"

"My point is that you've been in LA for literally two seconds. You haven't changed that much. You've hardly changed at all." And just like that, the words he's wanted to say to her all day—but has made a point not to say to her all day—come tumbling out. "You can't get away from yourself by moving from place to place."

"It worked for you," she says dryly.

"What?"

"You were in Seattle for what … a few hours … and you became this nature-loving, wood-chopping fisherman who lives in a trailer." She looks at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of what he could only describe as anger and defeat. "It worked for you. Why can't it work for me too?"

Her voice is vulnerable … raw, even. And he feels his resolve begin to weaken.

"Come sit down with me," he says softly.

"I'm supposed to meet Callie and Erica for drinks," she responds mechanically, not meeting his eyes.

"Okay, but …" He gestures toward the empty scrub room. "There will be plenty of time to pretend with them later. Sit down with me for a few minutes. We'll discuss realities."

She swallows hard. In all honesty, she doesn't know what they have left to discuss. But she finds herself following him anyway.

"What do you want me to say, Derek?" she asks, as they sit down together on the scrub room floor, the exhaustion clear in her voice. "I don't surf, I don't walk on the beach, I don't light aromatherapy candles, I'm not Zen … you know this. But do you want me to say it out loud? Do you want me to say that LA hasn't rubbed off on me and that what you saw today was –"

"No," Derek interrupts. "I don't want to hear you say that." He runs a hand through his hair and meets her eyes. "I had a patient today who knew he was going to die. And the whole time, he was making cracks about his wife's appearance and talking about how no man in his right mind will ever want to marry her."

"Sounds pretty brutal."

"Yeah," Derek nods. "It turned out it was just a defense mechanism … the rude comments, the jokes. Well, part of it was the tumor talking," he amends. "But that's not the point." He meets Addison's eyes. "My patient was afraid his wife wouldn't move on after he died. He was trying to drive her to move on … so she wouldn't be alone."

"I can't decide if that's really sweet or really messed up," Addison admits, still not sure where Derek is going with this.

"I think his heart was in the right place. Again, we're straying from the point." He sighs. "You know what I was thinking about when my patient told me that he wants his wife to be able to move on so she's not alone?"

"No."

"I was thinking about you. And how just a few hours earlier, you had called me your husband. And how it made me happy … because … because you haven't moved on."

"Nice," Addison mutters dryly, rolling her eyes.

"I don't mean it that way and you know it." His voice softens. "You're not the only one putting up a front."

She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to go on.

"Seattle's not right for me."

Addison looks at Derek in confusion. When he first moved out to Seattle, she would have agreed with him; but now she doesn't know what to believe.

"I mean, the work's fine," Derek continues. "But the work will be fine at any major hospital. It's just … no one here knows me."

"Wasn't that the appeal of Seattle?" Addison asks in confusion. "Fresh start. Clean slate."

"Maybe," Derek concedes. "I just …" he trails off, trying to find the right words. "Meredith has mommy issues. And Cristina has issues with her mother as well. And Alex and Izzie both had rough childhoods. I know these things. But nobody here knows about my childhood."

"Nobody knows about your dad?" Addison clarifies.

"Nobody knows I watched him get shot and killed right in front of me."

"And Amelia?"

"Nobody here knows my sister was a drug addict and that her addiction nearly killed her."

"Mark knows," Addison points out.

"Mark doesn't count."

Addison is prepared to disagree with him, but decides against it. "Why doesn't anyone here know anything about you?" she asks Derek, doing her best to keep her voice neutral and not accusatory. "Is it because nobody asks? Or is it because you don't tell people?"

Derek shrugs. "I don't know. Both, I guess." He sighs. "I just … I feel like I'm a caricature here. I'm McDreamy … the neurosurgeon with nice hair, who has a thing for ferryboats and likes to fish." He shakes his head. "Nobody here knows anything meaningful about me. I don't think anyone here even knows my middle name."

Addison bites back a laugh at that.

"And then when you came here today … acting all LA … _pretending_ to be all LA," he amends. "It was like someone was holding a mirror up to me and the way I've been acting."

Addison's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "So … is this about you or me?"

Derek chuckles sadly. "You … me … is there really a difference?"

"Addison-and-Derek," she says quietly, letting their names blend together.

"Derek-and-Addison," he corrects, giving her a small smile.

She swallows thickly. They're dancing a dangerous dance, and she knows it.

"I'm not sure if I like LA," she says, purposely changing the topic. "I haven't been there long enough to really have an opinion about it."

A slight smile spreads across Derek's face. "Does it have cute little viewfinders?"

"I don't know," Addison admits. "It has green juice."

"Green juice?"

"Yeah. Some type of healthy vegetable blend. It looks kind of weird. But it's good."

Derek can't help grinning. Sure, they're just talking about juice. But it's an honest conversation. And, right now, that feels good.

"I do miss this, though," Addison continues, hitting him with some more honesty. She gestures toward the scrub room they're sitting in for emphasis. "The cases here are challenging and exciting. Speaking of which, you never told me about your surgery today."

"It wasn't particularly inspiring, Addison. Probably on par with the stuff you see at your private practice."

"You said your patient made you think of me," Addison disagrees. She gives Derek a playful nudge. "That's pretty inspiring. Now, come on, tell me about the surgery."

"How about I tell you about you instead?"

"What?"

"The patient made me think of you because … sometimes I miss you. I miss working with you. I miss talking about surgeries with you. And sometimes … well, more than sometimes … I just miss you."

A small smile plays on Addison's face. "Sometimes I miss you too," she admits. "More than sometimes." She meets his eyes. "Sometimes I miss us."

The words are barely out of her mouth before his lips are on hers. And she finds herself kissing him back. The kiss starts gently … slowly. But it quickly becomes more intense and heated. He runs his fingers through her hair and she arches her head back as he trails feather-light kiss down her neck.

"You smell good," he murmurs against her skin.

"New perfume," she breathes raggedly, struggling to form words as her lips reconnect with his.

In the end, they just kiss … on and off for over an hour.

She never makes it to drinks with Callie and Erica. And he insists on driving her to the airport.

"Derek, you don't have to come in with me," Addison says when she sees Derek begin to park his car. "Wh-why are you parking in the overnight parking lot instead of the visitors' lot?" she asks in confusion.

"Because," Derek smiles, "I'm going with you."

"What?"

"You said you haven't gotten to explore LA very much. I thought I could explore it with you. Look through some viewfinders. Drink some green juice." He grows serious and meets her eyes. "Plus, I need to get out of Seattle."

"You can't get away from yourself by moving from place to place, Derek," she says quietly.

"I'm not," Derek insists. "I'm doing the opposite, actually."

She swallows thickly. LA is supposed to be her place. Away from Derek, away from her past, away from her life in Seattle and New York.

It's supposed to be her place. But maybe she can share it with Derek for a while. Admittedly, the thought isn't unappealing.

"You don't have any of your stuff," she points out as they enter the airport together. "You don't have a suitcase or clothes … or even a toothbrush."

Derek chuckles. "I'm willing to bet they sell clothes in LA. And as far as the toothbrush goes," he continues, giving Addison a suggestive look, "I'm happy to share yours."

"Derek," she scolds; though they both know she's not really angry.

"Fine, I'll buy my own toothbrush," he concedes. "But first I need to buy a plane ticket."

"I'll buy us some coffee," she offers. It's true she need caffeine (it's been a long day). But what's more true is the fact that she doesn't want to be around when Derek is deciding how long he should stay in LA.

"No cream, no sugar?" she asks, even though she technically doesn't need to.

"Black," he nods. And the two exchange a knowing smile.

Some things don't change.

"Thanks," he says, pressing a kiss to her temple.

And as she makes her way toward the airport coffee stand, she can't help thinking about the quote she threw in Derek's face … and that he then threw back in her face … and that she once again threw back at him.

Maybe you can't escape yourself by moving from place to place. She's moved from New York to Seattle to LA. And somehow in the midst of all this moving, she managed to find her way back to Derek. Well, maybe not _back, back_ … but something resembling it. For the moment, at least.

She can't think about the details. (How long is he going to stay in LA? Isn't he dating a nurse? What if he decides to move to LA permanently?). She'll only drive herself crazy if she does.

So she buys coffee.

And he buys a plane ticket. A one-way plane ticket.

He has a feeling he'll like LA. Apparently, people eat healthy there. And he can take up surfing. (He knows Addison won't; but one of them should). And LA has Sam and Naomi, his friends from med. school. But, mostly, LA has Addison.

Maybe he'll move there permanently. Maybe he won't. He doesn't know.

What he does know is that if it's not a one-way trip … if he buys a return ticket to Seattle or to somewhere completely different … he won't make the trip alone. Addison will be there, plane ticket in hand, sitting exactly where she belongs … next to him.

 _xxx_


End file.
